


The Sudrian Saboteur

by Greenwindsthatblow



Category: Thomas the Tank Engine & Friends
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 14:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15583635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenwindsthatblow/pseuds/Greenwindsthatblow
Summary: The North Western Railway is inundated with acts of sabotage, and the engines become increasingly worried as the acts contine unchecked. Will the engines of Sodor pull through this crisis? Find out in the first book of “Sudrian Stories,” “The Sudrian Saboteur!”





	1. Another day on the NWR

The Sudrian Saboteur 

Chapter 1: Another day on the NWR.

It was a hot summer morning at Anopha Quarry, and Mavis the quarry diesel was asleep in her shed as her driver walked up. 

“Rise and shine, Mavis,” he said, gently patting her running board. 

Mavis yawned and blinked the sleep out of her eyes. 

“Good morning, Mitch,” she smiled. 

“We’ve got a busy day ahead of us,” Mitch said. 

“As per usual, then?” The quarry diesel smirked. 

Mitch laughed. “As per usual. Come on, old girl, let’s get crackin.’” 

Mavis went right to work, marshaling long lines of trucks, pushing them under the chutes to be filled with stone, and then shunting them into the sidings to be taken away. 

“This is a large order,” she observed, “where’s it going?” 

“These stones are bound for Knapford,” Mitch answered, “Percy’s coming up to take them down to Elsbridge, where Murdoch will take them to Knapford.” 

Just then, a whistle sounded out and the little green engine in question puffed into the quarry. 

“Hello, Mavis,” Percy smiled. 

“Hi, Percy,” Mavis smiled back. 

“Are these the stone trucks I’m meant to take?” He asked. 

“Yes,” Mavis answered, “The way I see it, I’ll organize them for you and you take them down to Elsbridge. How’s that sound?” 

“Sounds great,” Percy peeped, as he headed to the turntable to get turned round. 

All day long, Percy bustled back and forth between the quarry and Elsbridge, where Murdoch picked up the long lines of marshaled trucks for delivery to Knapford Harbour. It was tiring work, but the little green engine made delivery after delivery, becoming noticeably more flustered each time, until only six trucks remained.  
But Percy had yet to return, and Mavis was beginning to worry. 

“I hope Percy’s alright,” Mavis said.

“He WAS starting to look sick around those last three deliveries,” Mitch concurred, “Perhaps he strained himself?” 

Before they could speculate further, the foreman walked up. 

“Percy’s had a breakdown,” he stated, “It turns out that he’d taken on some contaminated water that slowly clogged up his pipes.” 

“Oh, no!” Mavis exclaimed, “Is he alright?” 

“His crew dropped his fire at Knapford and Peter is going to take him to the works on one of his heavy goods trains,” the foreman reassured her, “so you’ll have to make the last delivery yourself.” He turned and walked away. 

After coupling up to the trucks, Mavis collected a brake van, and set off down the branch line. As she approached a crossing, she saw a red cargo lorry stopped right on the line! 

“What the?!” Mavis cried, braking hard as she came nearer and nearer to the crossing. Finally, she stopped with her buffers mere millimeters from the side of the lorry. 

“What in grinding gears is this lorry doing here?!” she shouted. 

Mitch climbed down from her cab and walked up to the lorry. After tapping on the window, it rolled down to reveal a rather angry looking man. 

“Care to explain why your lorry’s blocking the track, mate?” Mitch asked. 

“So sorry sir,” the man growled, “this blasted thing stalled on the crossing ten minutes ago. Been trying to fix it since.” 

“Why not just call for a tow?” 

“Don’t ‘ave that kind of money.” 

Mitch was taken aback. The lorry driver had a certain intensity that made him uncomfortable, and found himself oddly relieved when the lorry’s engine started up again. 

“Alright, well, just don’t let it happen again,” he conceded, “Now, clear off, yeah? We’re running late as it is.” 

The lorry driver just glared at Mitch, but rolled up his window and complied. As the lorry drove away, Mavis noticed her driver looked a little unsettled as he made his way back to her cab. 

“What’s wrong, Mitch?” She asked, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“I feel like I did,” Mitch sighed, “That man seemed...sinister.” 

Mavis couldn’t help but feel a little unsettled herself as they resumed their journey. Why hadn’t that man called for a tow? Or, at the very least, tried to push his lorry off the tracks? It certainly was odd, and her mind was still occupied with this as she arrived at Elsbridge, where Murdoch was waiting for the last of the stone. 

The heavy goods engine noticed the diesel’s troubled expression, and decided to see what was wrong. While normally not the most talkative, Murdoch wasn’t one to ignore an engine who looked to be in glum spirits. 

“What’s the matter, Mavis?” He asked. 

“Oh, nothing too important, Murdoch,” she answered as she pulled away from her trucks and switched tracks, “A lorry broke down on the crossing. It’s why I’m late.” 

“Oh. That’s it?” Murdoch asked, catching Mavis slightly off guard. 

“I...was expecting a bit more of a reaction,” she admitted as her trucks were coupled to the back of Murdoch’s train.

Murdoch would have shrugged, had he the ability. 

“Incidents like those are beyond our control. It’s not like you could just push it aside,” he explained. 

Just then, the signal dropped. 

“That’s for me. Gotta go, Mavis,” Murdoch said and puffed away. 

“Bye, Murdoch,” Mavis sighed and headed back to the quarry. 

Murdoch rumbled up the main line with his heavy load of stone, enjoying the peace and quiet that came with solitude while it lasted. Approaching Lower Knapford, he saw an exhausted-looking Alice at the platform with a football train and winced. Murdoch gave a curt but polite whistle of sympathy to the green Atlantic engine as he passed through, getting a whistle back before he left the station behind. 

Trundling on, the heavy goods engine savored the last modicum of peace and quiet as the main line terminus at Knapford came into view, and engines bustled to and fro. Bear rushed by with a growl and a roar, a line of maroon coaches behind him. A rather filthy and very grumpy James passed through with a train of oil tankers. Douglas sat outside the terminus on the line leading to the Little Western with a goods train, chatting with Lily, who was waiting for her signal to take her delivery of empty cattle trucks and grain hoppers to the farms along Thomas’s Branch Line.  
The black, Scottish tender engine and the maroon, Victorian tank engine gazed lovingly at each other as they spoke. 

“So, I hear Jinty’s been adjusting to Knapford Harbour quite well,” Lily said, as Murdoch tried desperately to escape all the noise and large amounts of people and engines, traveling as fast as the speed limit would allow as he rumbled through the station and toward the harbour, vanishing from sight.

“Has she, noo?” Douglas replied. 

“Yes, Diesel’s been helping her get a lay of the land, from what Peter’s told me,” Lily explained, “He sure was happy when she arrived. So was Reginald.” 

“Aye, we all were, loove,” Douglas smiled, “It’s alwus nice tae have another Midi here on oor wee island, nae?” 

“It sure is,” Lily agreed. 

“Oi! Are we gonna get movin’ ‘ere, or are you two just gonna keep gazing into each other’s eyes?!” Shouted one of Lily’s cattle trucks. 

“Yeah!!” A box van at the front of Douglas’ train agreed, bumping the Scottish engines tender, “Get a move on, lover boy!” 

“Ach! Haud yer wheesht!” Douglas snapped, holding his brakes firm, “In case ye gits haven’t noticed, baith av oor signals are red!” 

“Indeed! I don’t know about you prats, but I have no interest in causing problems!” Lily sharply agreed before a smug grin formed on her face,” Besides, I’m quite content to chat with my Douglas until the signals do change. Speaking of which, I’m assuming you’re headed back up The Little Western?” 

“Aye. I’m takin’ thes load av supplies tae th’ wee engines in Arlesburgh,” Douglas said. 

Just then, the signal turned green, clearing Douglas’ path. 

“Sorry, Lily, cannae stay any longer,” Douglas said, as he slowly pulled out of the station. 

“Bye, Douglas. Love you!” Lily called. 

“Loove ye, too!” He called back. 

Leaving Knapford behind, Douglas set off down the Little Western, soon arriving at the town of Carlden, where he would pass through the station of said town. As he neared the station, he saw Rachel the Collette Goods engine, a friend of Duck, Oliver and Toad’s from their Great Western days, waiting at a signal with a line of flatbeds loaded with lumber.  
Giving her a whistle, Douglas puffed through as Rachel gave a whistle of her own. 

As Douglas traveled down the line toward Tidmouth, he took in the sights around him. While he and his twin had been assigned to the Little Western for nearly fourteen years, there was something about the costal Branch Line that never ceased to amaze.  
By the time his contemplation had reached this point, Tidmouth was in sight, and waiting at the platform was Donald with a passenger train. 

“Afternoon, Dougie!” Donald called to his twin as he passed through. 

“Afternoon, Donal’!” Douglas called back. The Scottish twins grinned at each other before Douglas rumbled through, now allowed to put on more speed. 

Between Tidmouth and Tidmouth Hault, there is a junction that leads to Knapford Harbour, and just beyond that is a single-track tunnel with Tidmouth Hault directly on the other side, where the track splits into two to accommodate trains running in both directions.  
Douglas was nearing this junction as he continued his journey, and he began to think about the stories that Colin, Lily and Adam had told him about how they had helped Thomas, Toby, Edward, Glynn and Samson build it during the Great War and chuckled to himself. To hear the three W&S engines tell it, one would think they had done all the work while the five FM&K engines sat on their wheels. 

“Somethin’ funny, Dougie?” 

“Ah, jist thinkin’ about a story tha’ Lily tauld me.” 

“I’m sure that’s not the only thing you’re thinking about, then,” his driver smirked. 

“Ah, haud yer weesht, Aaron,” Douglas chuckled as they entered the tunnel. 

As they came out the other side, they saw Oliver and Toad with a train of ballast trucks on the line opposite theirs. 

“Afternoon, Oliver, Toad!” Douglas whistled as he passed through the Hault onto the costal run. 

“Hello, Douglas!” Oliver greeted warmly. 

“Hello, Mr. Douglas!” Toad called as the Scottish engine snorted away. 

The costal portion of the route came into view as the two tracks of the Hault converged into one again. Douglas sighed contentedly. He never understood why Daisy complained about this part of the line. The ocean view, the sea air, the white, sandy beaches and the lush countryside. All her talk about it being “Bad for her swerves” sounded like a load of rubbish to the Caledonian.  
But not even Daisy’s inane screeching could dampen his spirits, and he whistled long and loud as he rumbled through Haultrough. Unfortunately, trouble lay ahead. 

Up at Bluff’s Cove, Duck was waiting at the platform with his three slip coaches, Johnny, Becky and Steven, for Douglas to pass through. The slip coaches had many passengers on board, including Sir Topham Hatt, who had come from a meeting with Mr. Duncan, the controller of the Arlesdale Railway, and was on looking forward to a supper of bangers and mash.  
Douglas snorted along the coast as he came into view, letting out a long whistle as he crossed the bridge between the signal box and the station.

But that friendly whistle of greeting turned to one of shock and horror when he suddenly swerved into the siding!

“Losh sakes!!” Douglas cried as he smashed through the buffers, ploughing through the grass, rocks and earth before coming to a rest on the beach, tipping over onto his side. 

“Bloody Nora!” Johnny cried. 

“Blimey!” Becky screamed. 

“Great fires of London!” Steven shouted. 

“Douglas!” Duck shouted as Sir Topham Hatt ran over to inspect. 

Douglas lay sprawled on his side. His driver had a concussion and his fireman had broken his arm. Duck’s crew quickly helped them up to the station and called for an ambulance. 

Douglas’ train was in a right mess. The three box vans at the front of his train lay about the beach behind him, while the three coal trucks behind them remained upright, but sat in the grass in front of the siding. The next two vans and the small flat carrying pipes between them had been the last trucks to derail, coming only slightly off the tracks. By great fortune, the two fuel tankers, the last box van and the brake van had remained on the rails. 

“Douglas?! DOUGLAS!!” Sir Topham Hatt shouted. 

“Ugh. Sirr?” 

“Oh, thank goodness,” he sighed before continuing, “I realize that this is a foolish question, but are you alright, Douglas?” 

“‘ow’s me crew?” 

“They’re injured, but they’ll survive. An ambulance has been called down to take them to hospital,” Sir Topham Hatt reassured him, “Now, how are you holding up?” 

“I’ve bin better, Sir. I’m in a lot av pain, and I’m awfully confused. Why waur th’ points sit tae th’ sidin’?” 

“I don’t know, Douglas,” Sir Topham Hatt said, anger entering his tone, “but I intend to find out.” 

The Fat Controller stormed over to the signal box, marched up the stairs and opened the door. When he looked inside, all his anger fell away and was replaced by shock and horror.  
There the signalman sat, tied to his chair and gagged with a cloth.


	2. Helping where needed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Douglas is damaged and sent for repairs, so the Fat Controller brings in Derek the diesel to fill in for him. 
> 
> I only own my characters. The rest belong to Mattel, Wildnorwester and the Awdry’s.

The Sudrian Saboteur 

Chapter 2: Helping where needed

Ryan the purple tank engine arrived with the breakdown cranes, Jerome and Judy. 

“Easy there, Douglas,” Judy said in a soothing voice. 

“We’ve got you,” Jerome added as they lowered Douglas onto a flatbed, then set to work retrieving his tender. 

Duck had been cleared through to allow the cranes the space to work, and wasn’t looking forward to telling his fellow Little Western engines the sad news.   
Daisy had also come down to take the unhurt trucks up to their destination. Realizing how serious the situation was, she took the trucks without complaint, remaining respectfully silent as she purred away, but promised to take the cranes back when the job was done. 

Once Douglas’ tender was placed on a flatbed, Ryan volunteered to take him to the works, to which the Fat Controller agreed.

“Don’t you worry, Douglas,” Ryan consoled, I’ll get you to the Steamworks in a jiffy, and they’ll fix you right up!” 

Douglas could only sigh as the purple Gresley tank engine puffed away. 

Meanwhile, police were talking to the signalman, who had since been rescued.

“So, there I was in my signal box, minding me own business, when, all of a sudden, I get clonked on the head, and everything goes black. Next thing I know, I’m tied up in my chair with a rag tied around me mouth!” 

“So you didn’t get a good look at your attacker, then?” The officer asked. 

“‘Course not! Whoever this was, they snuck up behind me! And he was gone by the time I came to.” 

“Hmm. I see,” the officer muttered. 

“Is there anything else I can do, constable?” The signalman asked. 

“No, that’ll be all, sir. Thank you.”   
He turned to the Fat Controller.   
“Contact is if you find anything suspicious, Sir Topham. We’ll catch whoever did this.” 

“I hope so,” the Fat Controller sighed, and walked out to his car. He had arrangements to make.   
When he arrived at Knapford, he walked into his office and began looking through bookings for the engines in his fleet. An engine would be needed to fill in for Douglas while he was being repaired. 

“Hmm. Perhaps Henry...no. He’s needed on the main line. Neville...no. Kirk Ronan needs its heavy goods engine. What about...yes, he’ll do well as long as his teething troubles don’t occur too much.” 

He wrote something down on his clipboard, made two quick calls on his telephone, walked out of his office, and climbed back into his car, driving back toward the Little Western.

Later that night, Duck, Donald, Rachel and Oliver were in their shed. 

“Ah cannae believe it! Wha would somebody dae sich a thin’?!” 

“Can we be certain this was a person? It could just as well have been faulty points,” Rachel suggested. 

“Ye heard whit th’ polis said! They found th’ bludy signalman boond and gagged in his signal box!” Donald snapped. 

“So someone really DID do this on purpose,” Oliver said with growing concern. Donald would have made a rude remark about stating the obvious, but the Auto Tank continued on. 

“Whoever did this deliberately caused a large derailment, most likely without a second’s pause. Who’s to say they won’t try again?” Oliver asked to no one in particular. 

The four engines were silent. Duck was the one who finally spoke first.

“That’s...quite alarming.” The Pannier Tank spoke barely above a whisper. 

“Aye,” Donald agreed. 

Just then, a bright blue car parked nearby.

“I think we should stop talking,” Rachel put in, “that could be the Fat Controller.” 

And indeed it was. The Fat Controller stepped out of his car and walked over to the shed. 

“Sirr? Is...is Dougie gonnae be okay?” Donald almost seemed afraid to ask. 

“Yes, Donald,” the Fat Controller assured the Caledonian, “I telephoned the Steamworks before coming here, and they confirmed that Douglas will indeed make a full recovery.” 

The Fat Controller seemed to know what Donald was going to say after that, as he continued quite promptly. 

“You will have a chance to see him while he’s being repaired, as will Lily, but I expect you to focus on your work until then. Am I clear, Donald?” 

“Aye, Sirr. Thank ye, Sirr,” Donald sighed, relieved to know his twin was safe. 

“That brings me to the other reason why I’m here. While Douglas is being repaired, another engine is needed to fill in for him. To that end, I’ve relocated one of the utility engines here. You may or may not already know him. He is a diesel by the name of Derek.” 

“The chap with teething troubles, Sir?” Duck asked. 

“Yes, Duck,” the Fat Controller answered, “Since his last overhaul, Derek’s teething troubles have been much less frequent of a problem, and there aren’t any steep hills on this branch line, so he should perform quite well. He’ll arrive at Knapford tomorrow morning. Rachel, you’ll double-head the first goods train to Arlesburgh with him and give him a tour of the branch line.” 

“Can do, Sir!” The Collette grinned. 

Duck, Donald and Oliver agreed with this choice. Rachel could be rather forgetful in most regards, but her knowledge of the Little Western was encyclopedic. The Fat Controller made one last statement.

“Now, I want you all to treat him fairly and make him feel welcome here.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Duck said.

“Yes, Sir,” Oliver concurred. 

“Yes, Sir!” Rachel smiled. 

“Aye, Sirr,” Donald said flatly. 

“Excellent. Now, off to sleep, engines. There’s a lot of work to do tomorrow,” the Fat Controller smiled. He then tipped his hat, walked back to his car and drove home. 

“That diesel better nae cause onie trooble,” Donald muttered. 

“From what Bill and Ben told me, he’s actually quite friendly,” Duck offered. 

“Oh, a friendly diesel’s always nice,” Rachel smiled. 

“Not wrong, there,” Oliver agreed with a yawn, “Now, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m planning on getting some kip.” 

The Auto Tank bade a good night’s rest to his fellow Little Western engines, then closed his eyes and slept. Rachel didn’t even have a chance to yawn, and instantly nodded off. Duck joined them in the land of nod not long after, but Donald had difficulty falling asleep. He knew that Douglas would be alright in the end, but just being told couldn’t sweep away the lingering doubt.   
All the same, the events of the day caught up with Donald, and fatigue soon pulled him into sleep. 

 

The next morning, Rachel sat on in the small yard next to Knapford station, trying to remember what the Fat Controller had told her to wait for.   
Colin, who was shunting the trucks for her goods train to Arlesburgh, noticed her thoughtful expression and decided to investigate. 

“Hello, Rachel. Something wrong?” The maroon Peckett asked. 

“Oh, hi, Colin,” Rachel said, “The Fat Controller told me to take this goods train to Arlesburgh, but I can’t remember the something he told me to wait for.” 

“Maybe he wants a ride up the Little Western on your train?” Colin suggested. 

Reginald the Patriot Locomotive, who was waiting at the platform with the “Dublin Steward,” had overheard their conversation and rolled his eyes. He had known Colin since their LMS days, and the Peckett shunter had never been the intelligent sort. Just then, a horn sounded out and a large green diesel with a centre cab rumbled through the station and onto the Little Western line. 

Reginald, mildly surprised, had no time to ask any questions, as his signal turned green. With a blow of his whistle and a woosh of steam, Reginald set off down the main line. The diesel smiled at Rachel and Colin. 

“Hello. I’m Derek. I was told to find an engine called Rachel?” The diesel spoke with a noticeable lisp.

“That’s me,” Rachel answered, somewhat confused. 

“And I’m Colin, Knapford’s station pilot!”

“Nice to meet you both,” Derek said warmly.

Just then, Rachel’s crew walked down the platform, having just finished breakfast. 

“Ah! You must be Derek!” Her driver smiled, “You’re to double-head a goods train with us.” 

“Oh! You’re the something I was supposed to wait for!” Rachel exclaimed. 

“Do forgive her, she can be rather...forgetful,” Rachel’s driver explained tenderly. 

“Oh, that’s quite alright,” Derek smiled, “Nobody’s perfect. Take my speech impediment, for example.” 

“And everyone always calls me a simpleton, whatever that means, but I proved them!” Colin added, unaware of the meaning of his turn of phrase, as he chuffed off to assist Phillip, his fellow station pilot, with organizing the coaches.

“Aw, thank you,” Rachel smiled. She could already tell that she was going to like this diesel. 

Derek’s eyes drifted to the line of trucks that Colin had shunted. 

“Is that our train?” He asked. 

“Yep! I’ll take the train and you lead. That way, you’ll learn the line that much more quickly!” 

“Are you sure?” Derek asked. 

“Positive. I know the Little Western like the back of my buffers!” Rachel beamed as she switched tracks and backed down onto the train. 

Derek followed suit and buffered up in front of Rachel. It wasn’t long before the signal turned green and Derek and Rachel were off. 

“Okay, Derek, this here’s Carlden,” Rachel stated, beginning Derek’s tour of the Little Western, “Just beyond the town, there’s a lumber yard and sawmill that we service. You might get a chance to see it.” 

“I see,” Derek observed, taking note of the single track that split off from the main two and led into a heavily wooded area. 

Soon, the two tracks became three, with the cavalcade running along the central track. Rachel knew what this meant, and began the next part of the tour.

“That there’s Tidmouth,” she said as they rumbled through the station, “You could kind of call it the transportation hub for the entire Little Western.” 

“How so?” Derek asked curiously. 

“Well, every passenger service on this line makes a stop here, so it’s our main interchanging point. Plus, lots of buses and cabs come here, as well,” Rachel elaborated, “more than any other station on this branch line, in fact.” 

“You’re right. You do know the Little Western like the back of your buffers!” Derek was quite impressed. 

“We ain’t finished yet,” Rachel smiled as they rumbled through the countryside, “You see that junction there?” 

“Yes. Is it important?” 

“Very. It leads to Knapford Harbour. We make regular fish deliveries there.”

The two engines neared the single-track tunnel. 

“On the other side of this tunnel is Tidmouth Hault,” Rachel stated as they trundled through and emerged from the other side at the Hault. 

“And here it is,” the Collette continued, “It’s a seaside station, so I don’t usually stop here.” 

“Why’s that?” Derek asked as they continued on down a slight gradient. 

“I don’t pull passenger trains. I’m a Goods engine,” she explained, “but it does have a yard, so I sometimes depart from it. It’s also where our shed is located. I’ll introduce you to the others tonight.” 

“Thank you, Rachel,” Derek smiled. 

“Ooh! The costal run starts here!” she exclaimed, “you’re gonna love this!” 

The two green engines entered the costal section and Derek was stunned by the scenery. 

“Here’s the first stop on the seaside line, Haultraugh!” 

“This is beautiful!!” 

“Yeah! Just like the Hault, I don’t usually stop here, but the scenery is breathtaking!” Rachel beamed.

Derek was amazed by the beauty of the Little Western, having worked in and around industrial areas all his life. 

“This is...Bluff’s Cove,” Rachel stated in a noticeably more downcast tone. 

“Do you have unpleasant history here?” Derek asked. 

“Not me specifically. Douglas had his accident here,” Rachel somberly explained. 

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” Derek said meekly. 

“You’re not to blame, Derek,” Rachel sighed, “Now come on, there’s still one more stop; Arlesburgh.” 

The journey continued on in silence until they reached the town in question and Derek was greeted by a most surprising sight. There were three tiny engines bustling about nearby! When he asked about this, Rachel laughed. 

“They’re Mike, Rex and Bert,” she explained as they pulled into the goods yard, “they bring in ballast from up in the hills, and we bring them tourists! There’s also a harbour nearby where we collect fish from.” 

“Ah. I see you lot are kept busy,” Derek observed. 

“We are!” Rachel agreed as she and Derek were uncoupled from their train, “Speaking of busy, I’m sure you’ll be thrown right into the thick of it, but don’t be ashamed to ask for a rest if the work gets to you, yeah?” 

“Thank you, Rachel! I will,” Derek called as Rachel chuffed off toward the harbour. 

It wasn’t long before Derek was indeed thrown right into hard work. All day long, the Clayton diesel bustled up and down the Little Western, hauling ballast trains, fish trains and supply trains. There was one close call when he had to stop at Haultraugh when the glaring summer heat added to the strain all the work was already putting on his cooling system, but he recovered soon enough. 

Duck and Oliver were quickly won over when the diesel offered to help push behind a particularly heavy load of ballast that Oliver had been rostered to take. Even Donald was impressed when he saw just how much respect Derek had for steam engines, particularly when he stated that diesels had a lot they could learn from their steam-powered predecessors.

That night, when the Little Western engines went to sleep, they welcomed Derek as an honorary member of their “motley crew,” as Donald put it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s chapter 2! Let me know what you think.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all. Well, here’s my first attempt at a Thomas the Tank Engine fanfic. I hope you like it. 
> 
> To prevent confusion and delay, I’ll give a brief pointer here. This is a composite Sodor, basses mostly on Victor Tanzig’s “Stories of Sodor” with my own bits and pieces, as well as elements from the Railway Series, the television series and real life.


End file.
